


Good Boy

by colberry



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Animal Traits, But Aoi isn't gay or anything, Fluff and Crack, Happy Ending, M/M, Uruha takes everything a little too well, Why Did I Write This?, the amount of crack in this could kill 20 men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colberry/pseuds/colberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Aoi is loyal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time it happened, Uruha was sure he was witnessing a complete mental breakdown. There was no other explanation for the pure _insanity_ that suddenly unleashed itself so unexpectedly in the dim lighting of the hotel room he was sharing with the fellow guitarist. The younger had just finished squeezing out every last drop of water from his newly blond hair, absently opening the bathroom door to step into the small bedroom to collapse into the ratty mattress, when Aoi’s excited exclamation cut through his exhausted haze.  
  
“You’re back, you’re back, _you’re back!”_  
  
Aoi’s face was suddenly two inches from Uruha’s, the taller taking an abrupt step back before he was completely bowled over. The older man was bouncing to and fro on the balls of his bare feet, utterly entranced with Uruha’s presence, a sincere gleam of adoration in his chocolate eyes. He could hardly contain himself and Uruha could feel his eyebrows skyrocket off his face.  
  
“Um… I was taking a shower, Aoi.”  
  
Aoi shook his head frantically, face falling into a pout – crestfallen, “But you took _so long!”_  
Uruha could hardly keep up with the onslaught of emotions at two in the morning as Aoi smiled once again, practically beaming, “But see, see? I waited! I waited for you!  Good boy?”  
  
Well, now… This was certainly odd. Uruha remained still, not sure what the fuck was going on but not wanting to make any sudden movements, just in case. All the while, Aoi watched him expectantly, seemingly awaiting praise with that same smile and boundless energy.  
  
The guitarist wasn’t sure how exactly to deal with this situation. The normally calm – if not aloof and temperamental – man he had known for four years had been abruptly replaced by someone with the mentality of – Uruha stared as Aoi sat on his haunches before him, hand pawing at his knee every so often to get the younger’s attention – …a needy canine.  
  
So, Uruha did the only thing that seemed sensible at the moment.  
  
He slowly reached down and set his fingertips atop Aoi’s mussed hair. The reaction was immediate – a small yip of happiness leaving Aoi’s lips as he leaned into the touch. Uruha found himself surprised at how soft the tresses were and allowed his fingers to sift a little deeper.  
  
Aoi hummed, perfectly content, and Uruha found himself gazing into chocolate eyes that were _so happy_. The lead guitarist had always pegged his bandmate as someone of a more serious, morose nature – to see glee betake those irises _not_ due to a cigarette in his hand or caffeine in his veins was enough for Uruha to feel a tug in his chest. Something painful and bittersweet.  
  
And maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop himself; why the next words tumbled out of his mouth so easily:  
  
 _“Good boy.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning proceeded as if nothing had happened. As if three games of “fetch-the-remote”, numerous assurances of “yes, you’re a good boy – I promise”, and one scarlet-cheeked (for Uruha) and heavenly (for Aoi) belly-rub never occurred.

The next morning proceeded as if nothing had happened.  As if three games of “fetch-the-remote”, numerous assurances of “ _yes, you’re a good boy – I promise”_ , and one scarlet-cheeked (for Uruha) and heavenly (for Aoi) belly-rub never occurred.  
  
Uruha was _positive_ that he had reclined on the hotel bed flipping through infomercials with Aoi delightfully sprawled across his lap, even though the guitarist had awoken to Aoi tangled in his own sheets, in his own bed, across the room.  But – _fuck_ , Uruha _clearly_ remembered absently scratching behind the other’s ear, both men slowly lulled  into sleep with the comforting touch.   
   
But nothing – _nothing_ – registered on Aoi’s impassive, distantly-polite face as they headed down to the hotel lobby.  And Uruha couldn’t just _ask_ him, “Hey, so last night, what the fuck?”.  That would be opening a door into the seventh-layer-of-awkward and at best Aoi would be embarrassed.  At worst (and most likely), Uruha would appear batshit insane.  
   
Not a flicker of recognition registered in Aoi as the band gathered in the hotel’s foyer and discussed the upcoming live.  Just an easy gaze and the usual shadow of a smirk lingered as Kai began to furiously pat his pockets for his cell phone.  
   
Uruha stood off to the side, desperately trying to convince himself that last night happened.  Was this a sign of a stroke?  Imagining your band mate begging for belly rubs and giving you cow eyes when you paused in stroking his long, ebony locks?  Shit, that drink at the bar was definitely spiked last night, or maybe all those years of smoking made him lose oxygen in his brain, or _maybe_ –  
   
“—Shima!”  
   
Uruha snapped his head up, meeting Reita’s impatient glare with wide eyes.  “I think I’m having an embolism.”  
   
Reita huffed, pushing his shoulder, “Yeah, well have it while you walk – the buffet’s gonna be closed in five minutes and like hell I’m letting Ruki get the last of those fluffy eggs.”  
   
And so Uruha tried to put the oddity out of his mind, even when he was forced to sit across from Aoi and act relatively normal.  The elder was taking measured sips of his black coffee, shoulders relaxed as he idly listened to Ruki’s incessant prattle about set lists and new Prada collections.   
   
And maybe it would have been easier to forget last night if Uruha hadn’t sorta-maybe-a-little-kinda _enjoyed it_.  The thought was unsettling and it made him fervently stare at his soggy toast lest someone caught his eye and _found out_.  It wasn’t like he enjoyed it in a perverted way – it was just…  nice.  Being so close to someone, to have low thrums of happiness vibrating on his chest, and to feel so _adored_ like _he mattered_ – and not merely because he played the guitar in revealing garb.  The touch of over-dyed, slightly tangled black hair between his callused fingers, the soft smile that made Aoi’s eyes warm, noir melting to brown…  
   
Only to wake up to Aoi’s distracted humming while he smoked a cigarette out the window – completely and utterly _normal_.       
   
It was somewhat mortifying how he was _almost_ disappointed – and Uruha couldn’t even begin to think of the shit he’d get from Reita (or, god forbid, Ruki) if he ever discovered this peculiar fetish…  
   
It was a fluke.  Whatever it was – be it a stroke-induced delusion or Aoi’s high from something definitely illegal – it was obviously a one-night-only ordeal.  It had to be.  
   
And as Uruha sat there in silence, he convinced himself that the discontent panging in his chest was  merely the fact that the buffet was out of eggs.  
   
:.:.:  
   
The second time it happened, Uruha was hardly out of the bathroom when Aoi pounced, nose nuzzling his neck and happy whimpers close to his ear.  The younger flailed, mind reeling as his hands came up to hold on to Aoi’s loose shirt in attempts to keep from cracking his skull on the doorframe.  Apparently this was the sign Aoi was looking for, moving in so his head fit perfectly beneath the other’s chin with a small yip, hands tightening around his waist.  
   
Uruha stilled, soft wisps of raven hair tickling his jaw.  _What, what_ –     
   
The elder leaned back suddenly, gazing into Uruha’s wide eyes with barely contained glee and a wide smile, “You smell nice!  Can we play with the remote again?”  
   
Uruha gaped, but his heart fluttered all the same as Aoi tilted his head curiously, smile softening while he waited.  The warm feeling of being _wanted_ curled in his chest, something _light, needed_.  But the younger took too long to respond and a nose bumped against his, “Are you tired?  We can go on the bed instead, it’s okay.  C’mon, c’mon!”  
   
Aoi tugged the taller man over to the hotel’s standard-issued cot, settling him onto the rosebud speckled comforter, gentle hands pushing him back into the pillows before splaying himself over Uruha’s lap.  Aoi rested his cheek atop the younger’s stomach, nestling contentedly.  Uruha watched, slightly amused, as the elder curled his body so he rested flush against the other’s side, the bed too small for anything otherwise.        
   
Aoi then grabbed Uruha’s limp hand and placed it on his head with a blissful sigh, eyes fluttering close and waiting for lithe fingers to start carding through his hair.  
   
Uruha blinked, forcing his hand to be still even though all he wanted to do was lose himself in this quiet comfort.  Because _he needed to know_.   
   
“Aoi… what are you doing?”  
   
Aoi snuggled into his stomach, “Being with you.”  
   
Uruha couldn’t stop his thumb from lightly stroking the downy strands near the elder’s temple.  “But…why are you like _this_ though?  Like a… _like this?_ ”  
   
Aoi tensed and suddenly rolled his head upwards to face Uruha’s perplexed gaze, eyes clouded and anxious, “You don’t like it?”  
   
“N-No, I mean, yeah I…  It’s not that, I’m just – _why?_ ”   
   
Uruha felt his face start to heat, and tore his hand off Aoi’s head, its placement seeming awkward now that he bluntly addressed the insanity and shattered any window dressing of normality.  He was slightly miffed at himself for even bringing it up, sacrificing that warmth in his chest for explanations.   
   
But Aoi stayed put on his stomach, refusing to leave.  He fiddled with the hem of Uruha’s shirt, eyes honest and words quiet, “Reita said you were getting lonely and that you should get a dog to keep you company.”   
   
Then hushed, softer, “I don’t want you to be lonely.”  
   
He almost didn’t hear the faint whisper, but it gingerly touched his chest with a warm caress.  And maybe this was crazy, maybe Aoi took haphazard statements too literally, maybe Uruha _was_ lonely and couldn’t sleep and just wanted _something-something_ –  
   
–  and slowly, slowly, Uruha threads his fingers through those dried-out strands.  A small smirk tilts Aoi’s lips to the right, eyes soft and _knowing_ , and he holds onto the taller’s waist a little tighter.  Sighs a little deeper, _“So, good boy?”_  
   
And Uruha smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ: August 25th, 2011


End file.
